Alphabet City
by lulukid
Summary: I'm a little scared to introduce it because I have a OFC, which I know doesn't always go over well in fan fiction, but she demanded to be written in...anyways, First Person of OFC, New to NYC, joins the bohemian society, I'm really bad at summaries
1. Part One: Freedom's Relief

Part One: Freedom's Relief.

It was raining. My skin was beginning to itch for the moisture those million tiny drops would provide. I was aching for the feel of hot summer rain against my cool skin. I found myself resisting the urge to burst out from indoors and dance in the street, to let rain wash over me and cleanse my soul. I wanted to relish in the freedom of midnight rain and revel in the creativity of a soaked twilight. For far too long I have been pent up inside my own mind, waiting for the clouds to burst open over my head. Finally, they had erupted and I found myself hesitating. Hesitation. It was my life, my motto and I was sick of it. I hated myself because of it. I wanted to fly off the handle, to live without bounds. I guess that is how I found myself dripping wet and waterlogged. I was dancing in the rain. I never dance in the rain normally, let alone in the middle of the night. Jumping from puddle to puddle, I laughed and smiled. Realizing for the first time in a long time that I hadn't cracked a true smile for the better part of a year and God only knew who long it had been since I had laughed a full belly laugh.

When I awoke to a new day, my hair was still plastered to the side of my face and my damp clothes clung to my clammy body. Nonetheless, I felt exhilarated. Starting my day, I somehow convinced myself to head to class. Because no matte how boundless I may have been the night before, I still I knew I was supposed to be in class and not reveling in the feel of open air. But, when the bus to school arrived at my stop I couldn't force myself to board it. I quickly found myself running in the other direction. Running, for the first time, in a direction I chose.

I broke out, I was free, and I had no intentions of ever going back to being caged. Like an animal at the zoo, born and bred in captivity, I longed to be wild. The taste of freedom was fresh against my tongue as I took it in and swirled it about my mouth. Delighting in the sweetest of my personal emancipation. No looking back, I whispered as I boarded the train that would take my away. I sat down, with my stubborn eyes focused, unwavering, on the tracks ahead.

I arrived fresh off the train from Jersey on that Tuesday afternoon with my entire savings (a staggering $1356.23) stowed deep inside my backpack in the pink porcelain piggy bank my Grandmother gave to me when I was five years old. Having read _The Catcher in the Rye_ in the tenth grade I quickly acquired a locker at the depot. After stuffing $20 in my jeans and stowing the rest of my minimal luggage in my locker I set out into the city. It was exactly 12 minutes later when I found myself lost in Alphabet City (albeit, I had no idea that was where I was).

I wasn't completely sure why I was even in New York. I knew I had to get out, to get away from the farms of South Jersey and hicks of Salem County, even though, I knew deep down I was a hick too. You can't grow up on a dairy farm without getting a little red on your neck, but I wasn't really one of them. I never truly was. I was born in overalls that never fit, but New York City, what the hell was I thinking.

As I walked further down the streets into the heart of what I later found out to be known as Alphabet City I felt completely lost and longing for comforts of home. Homeless people lined the sidewalks, making me pass sideways at some points due to the sheer magnitude of them. I'm pretty sure a few of the women I saw walking down the street weren't even women at all. But there in the middle of it all was where I found it. The source of my journey, my reason for New York City, the question to my anticipated answer was there, leaning out on a rusting fire escape. I saw freedom in the eyes of a man I never knew. I saw creativity and warmth in a smile I only just experienced. I saw safety in the unknown, and I felt good. I felt alive. Looking down, he caught my gaze as I squinted into the sun, unwavering in my stare, unafraid of being seen.

He smirked at my tenacity and turned his gaze back to the rooftops that spread out on all sides of the street. I followed his gaze to the steaming roofs of New York City and smiled at their brilliance. Call me naïve but something about those moments made me positive that leaving everything I knew, everything I was with no plans and no safety net, was the most logical thing in the world.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I'm still debating that truth. But one thing I do know is that I would give anything to go back to those moments and bottle that invincible feeling and pass it around. It's only now when I look back that I can honestly realize those feelings in both happiness and sadness.


	2. Part Two: First Impressions

Part Two: First Impressions.

When I looked back up at the fire escape he was gone and I suddenly felt my confidence wavering. I stumbled stepping over the curb as a taxi stormed by tossing a puddle across the toe of my beat up sneaker. Taking a moment, I surveyed the scene unfolding around me. As quickly as I had seen all the answers, I had lost them. Glancing wildly about me, I felt tears begin to well in my eyes. What the hell am I doing here? I wanted to scream aloud. I had nowhere to go. I knew no one. But, I couldn't go back. I refused to go back. Entirely defeated, I sunk unto the curb, knees to my chest praying for answers.

A low buzzing noise to my right brought my out of my thoughts. Looking up, I came face to face with the lens of a camera. Looking beyond the old camera I saw the focused artist. I wasn't sure whether to smile or cry. Whether I should laugh or shout at the man. I concluded to merely turn my face away.

"Zoom in on the out-of-towner," the blond man behind the camera narrated, "now aware of the camera, she becomes shy."

I turned back to the camera ready to have it out. But when I turned around the man had lowered the camera to his side. He wasn't much older than I was, pretty young actually. He looked about 20, although he could be older. With his right hand extended, he introduced himself as Mark. Standing up quickly, I shook his hand introducing myself as Jo.

"So, you're obviously lost," he smirked at me.

"Obviously," I mocked as I spun around acting confused.

"First time in New York City?"

"First time anywhere," I muttered. He snorted beside me.

"Where you trying to get?" he asked. I was stumped for an answer as I glanced down the street longing for direction.

"Umm…Well…you see…it's kind of like…I mean…"

"Welcome to Bohemia," he cut me off. He let his arms sweep out before him as he gestured toward the city.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"So, what brings you to the city?" he began, "What's your dream?" I glared at him questioningly. "Everyone has one." He continued, "It's the reason this end of New York is still thriving in the midst of disease and decay."

"Freedom." I stated simply, suddenly very interested in my feet.

"Freedom," he repeated over and over again letting it roll over his tongue.

"Okay, well, I'll be going now." Feeling uncomfortable, I moved to leave, he caught my arm.

"Sorry. I just, well, it's been a long time since anyone threw that one at me."

"Well, it's the truth." What more did this guy want.

"It just seems that lately everyone comes to good old NYC for one reason and one reason alone: success. Greed does make the world go round after all. Even though no one would admit, because we're all starving artist."

"Hence the camera," I laughed gesturing toward the equipment gripped in his left hand.

"And the guitar," he said gesturing toward the sky.

"Huh?"

"My roommate, it's his, shall we say, 'drug' of choice."

"I guess I should confess something," I smiled as I sat down beside him on the steps of his building. Reaching into my back pocket I unearthed the ratty notebook that was permanently folded in half. "I'm a writer."

"So, you do have a dream," he smirked. "I knew it. You have that hunger in your eyes. Be careful, it's catching."

"Well, I guess. But it is not the reason I left the farm." Mark laughed loudly at this remark, eventually clutching his stomach and sides.

"What?"

"The farm? Please tell me that was a joke."

"Oh, how I wish it was," I muttered under my breath.

"So country mouse decided to visit the big city, eh?" Mark quipped, thoroughly amused with himself. I wasn't completely sure I liked this guy anymore.

"Mark?" someone yell down from the fire escape.

"Yeah, Roger?" Mark yelled back. Looking up I found myself staring up at the man from earlier. I quickly diverted my gaze to the sewer grates that steamed in the heat left over from the Indian summer.

"What the hell are you doing? You said you'd be right back?" He yelled back.

"I found a mouse" Mark laughed, still on about his funny little joke.

"What the hell are you talking about," Roger screamed.

"Come down and see," Mark challenged.

"Look I really should be going," I moved to leave for good this time. Still completely unsure of where I was going, or even where I was for that matter, but too annoyed to care.

"Come on. Meet Roger. He'll love you."

"You mean I'll be good for laugh. No thanks," with that I left Mark standing alone to film my retreating form.

"What the fuck is going on, man?" Roger asked as he arrived at Mark's side.

"Nevermind," Mark said as he turned the crank of his camera quick to catch his shot of me storming away.


	3. Part Three: A Second Chance

Part Three: A Second Chance.

Three hours later, I found myself still lost and with no hope of finding a friendly face to ask for assistance. I was further into the city by now and not entirely sure I could even find my way back to the depot at this point. Searching the street signs as I walked one block after another, I tried to recall the address of the train station. My mind fell completely blank. I couldn't remember anything. Finally, I stumbled upon a slightly less than shady establishment. As the sun set in the western sky, I slipped inside the door of the Life Café.

Inside I sank into the red seat of a booth and pulled out my ratty notebook. With pen poised, I contemplated what to write. I didn't get too far before a waitress in black leggings and an oversized t-shirt came to take my order.

"What'll be?" She slurred.

"Coffee. Black." I answered quickly turning back to my notebook.

"So, you take you coffee black, huh?" I looked up to find Mark standing next to my booth. Without permission he sat down and flagged down the waitress to order a tea with honey.

"Well, just make yourself at home" I snapped closing my notebook and stuffing it back into the pocket of my jeans.

"Look, I want to apologize for earlier," Mark started.

"So, you decided stalking was best?" I interrupted. Looking around I started to feel rather nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings.

"No, actually, this is just dumb luck." He smiled. "Honestly though, I guess I forget that not everyone gets my weird sense of humor. I wasn't trying to be mean or scary or anything. I was just, well, oh come, give me a break. It was funny."

"Whatever," I said attempting to look anywhere but directly at the filmmaker.

"Alright, fine. I surrender. I'm a jackass and I'm sorry." I merely nodded at his words. Silence set in soon after.

"So, still lost?" Mark said breaking the silence. I fixed him with a glare.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Look," I started as the waitress came back with our drinks. "Do you think you can at least point me in the direction of the train station?"

"Leaving us so soon?" Mark asked with a knowing smile.

"No." I replied a little too quickly. Blowing lightly on my coffee, I took a sip.

"I can take you there if you'd like," he offered. I searched the young man sitting across from me for a moment. Here I was, the only girl at Woodstown High School that could tip a cow by herself scared of the scrawny little Jewish boy from New York City.

"Fine," I finally answered.

"So, the depot is your destination for what purpose?" Mark inquired.

"If you must know, and since you don't seem to believe in privacy or silence for that matter, I have no where else to go. Besides, all my stuff is still locked up in a locker there." This Mark guy was really starting to piss me off.

"You're going to stay at the train station?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Good a place as any," I replied defiantly. Take that, I thought.

"Look, Jo, I know you don't like me very much but believe when I tell you that you don't want to do that. Hell, I don't want to do that and you've seen where I sleep."

"Why not? People do it all the time."

"Whatever." Mark replied finishing his tea. "Ready?"

"Sure." I slipped a few ones from my pockets and placed them on the table, "It's on me."

54 blocks north and 2 blocks west later, we were at the train station. Ready to depart from Mark I quickly ascended the steps into the depot shouting a thanks and goodbye over my shoulder. I wasn't until I made it inside that I realized Mark was still behind me.

"What are you doing?" I barked at him.

"I'm not letting you stay here."

"I'll be fine. What the hell do you care anyways?"

"Look, go home, just don't stay here, ok?" he asserted. He looked me right in the eye when he said this and I wanted to hate him for it, but something in that look told me that I should trust him.

"I can't go back." I whispered sitting down on a worn plastic seat.

"Sure you can. You've barely been gone a day,"

"You don't understand. I can't go back." I felt the tears forming at the corners of my eyes, "You don't know what it was like. I was born into a world I wanted nothing to do with. I have spent my entire life chasing other people's dreams because of it. I can't be that girl. I can't be that person. I did not want to be the harvest queen. I don't want to marry Bobby Dean or Billy Ryan when school is done. I don't want a houseful of kids and chickens to feed. I had to get out. I couldn't be bound to that life that traps a person inside herself." Before I could stop myself I was crying. I sank further into the chair sobbing, "I can't go back. I can't go back."

Even in the midst of my breakdown, I watched as Mark contemplated what to do next. His gaze shifted nervously from his camera to me deciding whether to capture the destruction of a teen on the edge or to comfort me. Setting his camera carefully on the curb beside me he sat down on the curb and placed an awkward hand on my shoulder patting me nervously. I wasn't sure what to do, my breath hitched slightly as fresh tears streamed down my chapped cheeks.

"I mean I know I must sound really dumb, and selfish. I was the lonely girl in the crowd of people, blah, blah, blah. I had everything I needed in that life but nothing I wanted, blah, blah, blah. But, I just couldn't face another day of it. God, I hate myself for this. I just couldn't take it anymore."

Mark hand was steady now as it swirled into small circles across my back. "I can't believe I'm doing this. What the fuck am I doing here? I have nothing. I ran away from everything."

"It's okay. What is everything, anyways? Maybe this nothing can turn out to be your everything?" Mark supplied, wiping my cheeks with his free hand.

"What?" I laughed through my tears at his awkward expression.

"I don't know. Crying girls make me nervous," Mark smiled.


End file.
